Kings Of New York
by natalieblack2
Summary: Denton decides to give the Newsies what they've always desired. Set during and after the strike.
1. I'm the King of New York!

**Disclaimer: i do not own Newsies. Okay...**

"Hey fellas!" Bryan Denton greeted, entering Tibby's to the sounds of the Newsies feasting and jabbering. Greetings of "Denton!" and "Oh hey!" followed him as he patted the backs and shook the hands of the various boys around the floor. Unfolding the newspaper, he plopped it in front of the leader, Jack 'Cowboy' Kelly.

"Big time," he grinned, thumping the picture on top. Jack picked it up as the boys crowded closer.

"Whatcha got there Jack?" asked someone while Spot Conlon leaned against him, inquiring "Where's me pitcha? Where's me pitcha?" Jack waved him off, glancing in slight disbelief at the large portrait of himself and his buddies on the front page of The Sun.

'**THE CHILDREN'S CRUSADE, **

**NEWSIES STOP THE WORLD **

**AND THE JOURNAL'**

"What are them woids there? They all about us?" Boots asked pointing to the article. Mush pointed to Jack's face in the picture.

"Hey! Hey look at'cha Jack, you look like a gentleman or something!" Mush jeered as Jack smacked his hand away.

"Will you please get your fingers off my face?" he sneered.

"Well, where does it say my name? Where's my name?" Spot asked, moving closer to the paper.

"Would ya quit thinkin' about yourself?" Jack snapped, trying to read the story.

"You got us on the front page!" David said excitedly as Denton dug into a plate someone had handed him. Denton smiled.

"You got yourselves on the front page. You just gotta make sure you stay there," he said.

"So what?" asked Skittery, "You get your picture in the pape, so what does that get'cha? Huh?" Mush pushed him slightly away from the table.

"Hey, whatcha talkin' about, huh?" the boys crowed their insults at him and Jack glared at him.

"You been in a bad mood all day!" he called over the rising shouts.

"I ain't been in a bad mood-" Skittery defended, before Racetrack interrupted him.

"Hey glum an' dump!" he smacked him in the cheek, "What's the mattah with you? You're in the papes, you're famous! You're famous; you get anythin' you want!" he walked around the table and slammed his palm down, "And that's what's so great about New York!" The boys yelled their agreements as each one of them thought about what they would get if they were "Kings of New York."

"A pair of new shoes with matchin' laces" sighed Mush, sitting in a chair.

"A permanent box at Sheepshead Races," Race whistled.

"A porcelain tub with boilin' water," Spot dreamed, sipping his sarsaparilla lazily.

"A Saturday night with the mayor's daughter!" yelled Kid Blink, standing onto the table. The others laughed and cat called as Race stood on another table opposite Blink and held the paper high over his head.

"Look at me!" he called to his friends, "I'm the king of New York! I'm respectable; starin' right at 'cha and lousy with stature!" The Newsies laughed, not quite sure what stature was but pretty sure it was what fancy pants like Pulitzer had. Jack stood up and swiped the paper from Race and laid down on his own table.

"Nobbin' with all the muckety-mucks, I'm blowin' my dough and goin' deluxe." Race swiped it back, sticking a thumb at his own face in the picture.

"And there I be. Ain't I pretty? It's my city, I'm the king of New York!" Suddenly, all the boys were reaching for the paper and Jack tried to calm them down, hollering for them not to rip it.

"A corduroy suit with fitted knickers." Boots said quietly, shifting his weight in his chair as the boys continued to fight over the paper.

"A mezzanine seat to see the flickers!" Les said, smiling brightly at the thought of him being able to take Davey and Sarah and Cowboy to see the film he'd been wishing to go to.

"Havana cigars that cost a quarter." Snipeshooter breathed out a puff of smoke from the cigar he'd stolen from Racetrack again.

"An editor's desk for the star reporter!" grinned David, catching Blink's eye and kicking a chair to the middle of the restaurant. The boys pushed Denton into it, taking his plate and throwing a table cloth around his shoulders like a cape.

"Tip your hat! He's the king of New York!" the Newsies cheered as the chair was lifted into the air.

"How 'bout that! I'm the king of New York!" Denton laughed, silently wondering where his pie had gone.

"In nothing flat, he'll be covering Brooklyn to Trenton: Our man Denton!" the chair was paraded around the room.

"Makin' a headline out of a hunch!" Blink assured.

"Protecting the weak…" Denton declared, finally back onto the ground.

"… and payin' for lunch!" Race finished, earning a head shake from the reporter. Denton stood and leaned against the table.

"When I'm at bat, strong men crumble!" he boasted.

"Proud yet humble!" Race jabbed, pushing him back down into the chair by the shoulders.

"I'm the king of New York!" Denton defended jokingly.

The boys continued to imagine what would happen now that they were "Kings" and Denton looked around in amazement at the energy they had.

_They've been pushed down so many times, but they never give up. Someday, I'll get them what they want. Then they'll really be kings of New York._


	2. A Pair of New Shoes With Matching Laces

**Disclaimer: I own NOTHING! Not even David *sighs wistfully* Uh, anyway, on with the story!**

**A Few Weeks Later**

"RELIGIOUS BATTLE IN HOTEL CHAINS! OUTRAGE OVER CLASH OF RELIGIONS!" came the loud cry from up the street. Denton shook his head at the "improved truth" the Newsies insisted was the only way to sell papers and moved towards the newsboy.

"You mean 'Gideon Society established to place bibles in hotels, Debate begins'?" Denton grinned as Mush reeled around and gave him a sheepish smile.

"Headlines don't sell papes, Denton…" Mush began. Denton cut him off.

"… Newsies sell papes. I know," he finished. Mush laughed, selling two school girls with pennies to spare an edition each with a coy smile. The men watched them giggle away, entranced by the attractive newsboy with the nice smile. Denton laughed, nudging Mush's shoulder.

"You'd better be careful with those debonair smiles of yours, or you'll have a few fans to deal with," he teased. Mush did a double take at the two girls he'd just sold to and back to Denton.

"No way, Denton! I'se ain't… I mean… I don't… I didn't… I…" Mush bumbled, turning pink. Denton chuckled, clapping Mush's shoulder.

"I was kidding, Mush. Hey, why don't you take a break and I'll buy you lunch, huh?" Mush grinned and stuck his papers in his canvas bag before following Denton to Tibby's.

Ever since the strike had ended, Tibby's owner James Tibby had decided to give all the Newsies of Manhattan discounts for life. He'd admired their courage, much like Denton, and wanted to reward them for sticking to their guns. Not to mention the publicity he was showered with after Denton wrote a story about it. Good for business.

The floor was crowded with Newsies, like any other day, and Denton and Mush fought to grab a table by the window. After ordering two Roast Beef sandwiches and a sarsaparilla each, Denton leaned forward.

"Mush, don't take this the wrong way, but when was the last time you got new shoes?" he whispered. Mush shrugged indifferently, glancing under the table.

They were brown leather boots; sturdy if you didn't wear them all day, every day for as long as Mush had. One lace was broken and the other was too short to even tie right. Mush looked back at Denton, not quite meeting his eyes.

"I think I got these from the ol' rag bag those nuns brought around a few years back. They haven't gotten too small yet, so I've kept 'em." Denton nodded, biting into the pickle he'd received with his food.

"Well, listen, if you want we could go look for a new pair that'll fit you better. C'mon, my treat." Mush shook his head.

"Thanks for the offer, but I'll pass. I gotta get back out there though. See you 'round, Denton." He finished his last bite of sandwich and left the bistro. Denton sat back, ashamed he'd even brought it up.

_But why? He deserves a new pair of shoes that actually fit him better and that aren't so worn out. I gotta get him some. _ Denton began to grin. _He won't be able to say no._ Paying the bill quickly and waving to some of the other patrons, he hurried out of the restaurant.

~K.o.N.Y~

"So, I says to the guy, I says 'No sir, the pape ain't out to getcha.' And he wants to know why…" Mush nodded absently at Race's story, not paying attention. He and David had caught up to the Italian on their way to Tibby's place after selling all morning. David caught his glance and they both rolled their eyes at Race's less than adequate storytelling, silently laughing as he babbled on, not noticing them slowly falling back.

"Well, now that we don't have him yakking our ears off," Mush began, jerking a thumb at their pal, still thinking they were next to him. David chuckled, and then stopped as a puzzled look crossed over his face.

"Hey, Mush. Are those shoes over there?" He pointed to a bench a few feet away where a pair of boots sat, alone. The two newsboys exchanged glances before walking over to them.

They were sturdy, brown boots with tan laces- laces that were both the same length. Mush picked one up and-surprise, surprise- they were his size.

"Only in New York!" David laughed. Mush happened to see a piece of paper hanging out of the one he was holding. Picking it up, he hoped it contained the name of the owner. Only a few words were written.

_The King of New York_

_Denton! _thought Mush, shaking his head exasperated. He crumpled the note in his hand, glanced one more time at the new boots, and started back for Tibby's, pulling David with him. Behind them, Denton shook his head.

_I guess I have to try harder_ he thought.

~K.o.N.Y~

The next day, it seemed everywhere he went, the shoes followed Mush. At first it was comical, seeing a pair of shoes in the middle of Bottle Alley on a stack of garbage, in the middle of a seagull's nest down by the harbor. Pretty soon, Mush was getting pretty annoyed. So he didn't want shoes, big deal! Why was Denton so bent on giving him charity?

_It's cause he cares about you, nitwit! He wants to help you, so let him_ came an internal voice. Despite already knowing this, Mush couldn't bring himself to admit it out loud.

He hadn't been truthful with Denton when asked about the shoes. He had received a new pair of shoes from his mother every year for Christmas since before he could remember. After her death when he was eleven, he'd taken the last pair of shoes she'd ever given him and a little money he'd kept in a piggy bank for a while and joined the Manhattan newsies. The shoes had somehow fit him for another six years and he felt like they were a connection to his mother.

_They're just shoes! Get over it_ crowed the narcissistic voice in his head again. He shook his head and continued on, trying to sell a few more papers before the lunch rush. Suddenly, he stumbled on something and went flying to the ground, the papers skidding all over the place.

"Ooff!" he grunted as his stomach made contact with the hard ground. He picked himself up gingerly, dusting the dirt off his trousers before glancing down at his boots. He groaned.

The laces in his good shoe had finally broke, tripping him up in the process. The was a large hole in his right one, by his big toe, and the sole of his left had finally gave way all together. There was no way they would last the day.

"Of all the rotten luck!" he exclaimed, kicking a stray rock angrily. Grabbing his last good papers, he stormed off to the lodging house.

He reached his bunk a few minutes later and kicked off the ruined boots, shoving them under Blink's bunk.

"Heya Mushy! What's a mattah?" questioned Racetrack, catching the look on his friend's face. Mush just shook his head, passing the other boy and setting off downstairs in only his stockings.

"Nice to see you too, buddy!" Race called after him. Curious, the boy got to his knees and fished the damaged shoes out from under the bunk.

"Aw man," he moaned. He knew Mush didn't have other shoes to wear (none of them did, really) and he didn't know where to get some new ones. Suddenly, he heard someone approaching and turned to see Denton sneaking around the corner, a pair of slick leather boots clutched in his hands.

"Hiya Denton!" Race called. Denton let out a startled yelp and spun around, clutching his chest.

"Oh, hey Racetrack. Say, where's Mush?" asked the reporter, trying to deflect form his flushed cheeks and momentary scare.

"Aw he's in a bad mood. Skittery must've rubbed off on 'im too much or somethin'. Anyway, 'is shoes gave out and 'e must be real angry. I mean, these were the last things 'is muddah gave 'im…"

"Wait, what?" interrupted Denton, puzzled, "He told me he got these from the nuns down at St. Francis."

Race shook his head. "Nope, they were the last present from 'is muddah. She died when 'e was 'leven and 'e's been with the newsies evah since."

Denton felt really embarrassed. That's why Mush hadn't wanted the new shoes; because they were the last things he could remember his mother by. Shaking his head, he held out the hand that wasn't carrying the newer ones.

"Give 'em to me, Race. I'll take care of it," he promised. After receiving the shoes, he raced down the steps of the lodging house and into the bustling streets of New York.

~K.o.N.Y~

A few hours later, Mush returned to the bunkroom with smarting feet and a tired body. He'd walked around the city for the whole day and was ready to fall into his bunk and sleep the night away. But before he could, something caught his eye.

Sitting atop his bed, were his shoes! His old shoes that had worn down just that morning, but were patched in some places and had new soles put on them. The laces were even replaced, now long enough to tie and matching. Under them, was a small note:

_Mush,_

_Racetrack told me about the shoes and I couldn't help but feel bad for trying to force new ones on you when you obviously didn't want them. I hope you can forgive me._

_~Your Pal Denton_

Smiling, Mush pulled on his shoes, which fit better than before, and strolled downstairs to the lobby where the boy's nightly poker game was going on. Whistles and cheers followed him as he grinned, playing along. He knew they'd be in on it.

"Gee, kid. Where'd you get them shoes at?" joked Race, "You look like, well…"

"The King of New York!" yelled Mush, thrusting his fists in the air and laughing with the other boys.

**A/N: Hi guys! Sorry this took so long, but bozo me decided 'Hey, I'm gonna post this story with no plan whatsoever for upcomming chapters!'**

** -_- Anyway, hope you like the story so far and I apologize for some things in here (the atrocious accents, the horrible ideas, etc.) Let me know what you think by clicking that little button down there that says 'REVIEW'. Plus, I'm welcome to ideas for the other parts of the story. Please. I'm begging you. Seriously. ;) ~Brooke**


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